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Updated: June 12, 2025
There was a little discourse about cigars, showing him exactly why the Thomas Jefferson Five-cent Perfecto was the only cigar worthy of the name. Had he, on the other hand, smoked too much? Here was a remedy for the smoking habit, twenty-five doses for a quarter, and a cure absolutely guaranteed in ten doses.
He would never be able to figure out that: all these miles from Cuba, and you could get a perfecto for thirteen cents. He heard the woman talking again. "I feel guilty, going away and leaving that ignorant child; but our days have been so planned that we dare not change the schedule. Didn't understand me when I said she would be compromised!
A wide-brimmed black hat thrust back on his head, a long black perfecto in his mouth, coattails spreading out behind as he walked, and the "Big Bill" Langdon smile on his face that carried sunshine and good will wherever he went, he was good to look on, an inspiration, particularly in Washington.
Langdon drew forth a thick black perfecto and settled back luxuriously in his chair, after another glance at Mrs. Spangler's clock. He was absorbed in a mental résumé of his forthcoming speech and did not hear the next words of the woman, addressed pointedly to his daughters. "Do you know, really, why this luncheon was given to-day?" she queried.
I wa'n't followin' it very close until Martha gets to askin' Ballard about some of his people, and he starts in on this story about his nephew. "Poor Dick!" says he, pushin' back his demitasse and lightin' up a big perfecto. "Now if he'd been my boy, things might have turned out differently. But my respected brother well, you knew Richard, Martha.
Merrihew took the cigar from his teeth and went through the pantomime of tossing it out of the window. "Si, si!" assented the conductor, delighted that he was finally understood. "You might have given me the tip," Merrihew grumbled across to Hillard. He viewed the halfburnt perfecto ruefully and filliped it through the window. "How should I know smoking was prohibited?"
Before I went any further I had to settle that point, and while I ain't strong for payin' visits through the iron bars I was up early next mornin' and down presentin' my pass. "You cub lawyers give me shootin' pains in the neck!" grumbles the turnkey that tows me in. "How'd you guess I wa'n't the new District Attorney?" says I. "Here, have a perfecto for that pain."
He swayed slightly, glowering at her with a hot face in which a vein throbbed persistently at his temple. Miss Beggs had disappeared. "Very well," he agreed heavily. Mounting the stairs he fumbled for his cigar case, and entered the chamber beyond his, clipping the end from a superlative perfecto. Emmy was in bed, propped up on a bank of embroidered pillows.
But on one side of the narrow door she could make out an incongruously ornate and showy cigarstore; on the other, an equally unlooked-for woman's hair-dressing and manicuring parlor. In the one, indeed, you might sedately purchase a perfecto, and take your peaceful departure, never dreaming of how closely you had skirted the walls of the busiest poolroom south of all Twenty-third street.
Dropping into the easy chair near the table, the clerk helped himself uninvited to another cigar. Stafford took another seat near him, while Virginia and her sister continued to find pleasure in examining some of the art treasures scattered all about them. "May I ask when the wedding takes place?" inquired the host after a pause. Withdrawing the perfecto from his lips.
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